Chapter 1192:
“Rylie!” Kristen advanced, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “Do you see now? This is where you die. No one is coming — not your bodyguards, not your precious Brad. No one can save you.”
Rylie lifted her head and tilted it slightly, as if studying a curious insect.
“Your father pulled strings to get you out of trouble,” she said, her tone flat. “And this is how you repay that?”
Kristen let out a sharp, brittle laugh. “Repay? This is me taking control! You humiliated me in front of everyone, threw me aside like garbage. Who do you think you are, hiding behind your family name and your boyfriend? Tonight, I’m tearing that smug mask off your face!”
𝖩𝗼і𝘯 𝘁𝘩𝗼𝘶s𝘢ոd𝗌 𝗼𝘧 𝗳𝗮𝘯𝘀 on 𝗴𝗮𝘭𝘯𝗈𝘷𝖾𝗹ѕ.𝗰𝘰𝘮
She flung the whip aside, reached into a tool bag, and pulled out a cold military knife and a brutal barbed club, tossing them both onto the floor. The metallic clang echoed sharply through the chamber.
“This is just the beginning,” Kristen said, gesturing toward black bags piled in the corner, her smile cruel. “I saved special surprises for you. I’m going to enjoy every moment. So tell me — should I start with that pretty face men love to stare at? Or those eyes that always look down on everyone?”
Melvin finally spoke up, forcing his voice steady. “Kristen, our priority is getting you out clean. Question her if you must, but we can’t stay. We need to move.”
Frank added quietly, tension threading through every word, “Every minute we stay increases the risk. Once Brad and the Kirks realize she’s missing, they’ll turn the world upside down to find her. We can’t linger.”
“Enough!” Kristen barked. “I’m in charge here. You” — she pointed at Melvin and his men — “watch the exit. No one comes in unless I say. Frank, get over here. I want this recorded clearly.”
Melvin hesitated, exchanged an uneasy look with his team, then silently directed them toward the entrance.
Inside the chamber, only three remained: Rylie, chained and motionless; Kristen, her grin widening with madness; and Frank, standing rigidly with a small camera gripped in reluctant hands.
Kristen raised the knife. The blade gleamed coldly under the harsh lights as she took slow, measured steps toward Rylie.
A perverse rush of power thrilled her — especially when Rylie’s face remained an impassive mask. It only made Kristen want to shatter that calm more.
“Beg, Rylie,” she murmured, each word dripping with venom. She slowly traced the knife’s tip along Rylie’s cheek. The metal was cold, yet Rylie didn’t flinch — didn’t even blink.
“Beg like a dog,” Kristen sneered, “and maybe — if I’m feeling generous — I’ll make your death quick.”
“Did it ever cross your mind,” Rylie asked, her voice deceptively light, “that I let myself be taken on purpose?”
She leaned back against the cold steel pillar, and the smile on her lips sent a sharp jolt of unease through Frank. From the beginning, he had been more unsettled than Kristen, burdened by a fear he couldn’t shake.
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